


Spacedock

by screamlet



Series: A Question of Science [5]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Established Relationship, Laziness, M/M, Recitation Kink, Sleep, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-19
Updated: 2009-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-04 15:39:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamlet/pseuds/screamlet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last day of the Enterprise's five-year tour is comprised of about 90% lounging, 10% other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spacedock

Spock woke up and realized he had no empirical evidence for the belief that Vulcans needed less sleep than humans on a biological level. His father and mother were both early risers and his father certainly slept less than anyone in their household, but he was also an extremely busy man. Spock himself needed more sleep than his parents, but less sleep than Kirk, who did not relish sleeping as much as lying in bed for as long as possible.

Knowing those things as he did, Spock woke up, extremely groggy, and watched Kirk slide out of bed.

"Did we not just fall asleep?" Spock asked, his throat dry and his tone exhibiting something like petulance, which he did not particularly wish to cover at the moment.

"Shh, I'll be right back," Kirk whispered. Spock watched him slip on clothes and leave their room. He shivered because Kirk had thrown back their blankets and left him exposed to the too-cool temperature of their room. "Computer, raise temperature five degrees," Spock said as he curled himself into the blankets again.

The door slid open a few minutes later and Kirk said clearly, "Computer, lower temperature five degrees." Spock opened his eyes and watched Kirk pull off his shirt again, and then let his pants slide to the floor. He stepped over to his side of the bed again and gave Spock a look.

"Was there a particular reason you chose to leap out of bed at this hour?" Spock asked. "Considering we only finished our inspection approximately three hours ago?"

Kirk smirked, but did not climb into bed just yet. "Everyone's gone."

Spock raised an eyebrow, but as he was tired, it was the eyebrow pressed into his pillow. "Indeed."

"Strict orders for no ceremony, just get off the ship at 0600 and -- I checked. Everyone's gone." Spock nodded. "So! I locked the ship down for our inspection, changed her status to 'Standby', and we're good for the day here in Earth's lovely spacedock."

"Thank you for the clarification," Spock said as he rolled more onto his back. "It explains a great deal, such as why the man I share my quarters with woke me far too early on our first day off in five years…"

"Yeah, yeah --"

"Then proceeded to remind me of our temperature compromise -- a compromise not in effect when _he_ is not there to warm me --"

"I knew it," Kirk sighed. "You and the computer -- I should have seen it coming --"

"And _continues_ to keep us from a well-earned several hours of rest for purposes I cannot understand."

"All right, all right, I get it." Kirk exhaled dramatically and slid under the covers again, curling his body against Spock, who turned on his side away from Kirk. "Besides, your body temperature's like a billion degrees more than mine."

Spock pulled Kirk's arm around his waist, pressing the hand to his chest, and said, "One more insulating device."

"You're _mean_ when you wake up."

"There is a distinct difference between waking up and being woken."

"So picky," Kirk said as he pressed a kiss to Spock's shoulder. "Go to sleep," Kirk said into the skin of his shoulder. He soon heard Spock's slow, rhythmic breathing and pressed himself against Spock's back, using the hum of the ship and the sound of Spock to fall asleep again.

*

"I fucking love Vulcans," Kirk moaned. "I bet -- uh, fuck, Spock, -- I'll fucking bet this is the ulterior motive for being so fucking smart. Just memorizing shit to --"

Spock stopped and Kirk sat up on his elbows to look down at him. He had to stop himself from purring or just falling back onto the bed with a sigh. Spock was impatient to continue what he was doing, but as it had an audible component, Kirk's talking interrupted him. Spock had folded his hands together and rested them on Kirk's stomach, his chin resting on the bump they formed. Kirk attempted to burn the image into his brain because Spock had to be _really_ annoyed to be so fucking adorable when he could have just stopped and raised an eyebrow.

"May I?" Spock asked.

"Sorry. I get talky."

"I had not noticed," he replied. 

"Your voice," Kirk said as he fell back against the bed again. "It's going to be the fucking end of me."

It began with their discussion on the two forms of Vulcan poetry. Spock had attempted to prove that logical poetry and beauty were not mutually exclusive, but Kirk had tossed the Standard translation of an ode to the circumference of a circle aside and said something about text with that many line breaks damaging his eye sight.

Spock had exhaled with something like exasperation, and chose to prove his claim by reciting said poem (in the original Vulcan, of course) into Kirk's skin.

Language was _strange_, Kirk reflected as Spock's scalding, damp breath hit his ribcage, the tip of his tongue flicking out against his skin too briefly and exerting a quick pressure that his skin remembered for a significant period after. What Vulcan he had picked up in the past five years was primarily 'domestic' Vulcan -- affectionate terms that slipped past Spock's mouth, household terminology, and the like. The sounds Spock made against him were less gentle, almost like gravel being excavated out of Spock's throat --

Fuck, Spock's mouth was traveling across Kirk's stomach in a diagram of a circle and its parts -- diameter, radius, _fuck_, he had to laugh. His own chest shaking with laughter caused Spock to nip the skin just under his mouth, pausing in his recitation for only a moment. Kirk grinned and let his fingers dig into Spock's hair, guiding Spock's head back up towards his neck and, hopefully, _eventually_, his mouth. 

Spock obliged the silent request and was soon kneeling over Kirk and covering his body, his cock brushing against Kirk's as Spock intoned deeply into his collarbone. Kirk burrowed deeper into the bedding and closed his eyes. He focused on Spock's voice, the sound and feeling of it, the points of contact between their bodies, the chill on his skin of those points where Spock's mouth had been and the patterns his mouth and tongue had traced. Even Spock's hair, so fine and silky, brushed against Kirk's chin and neck, driving him just a bit mad from how slowly things progressed. 

Kirk's eyes flew open when Spock stopped again. "Wait what why did you _stop_?"

"That was the end," Spock said clearly.

"But…"

Spock settled against Kirk, no longer kneeling, and reached his hand down between them, bringing their cocks together and stroking them with his obscenely long fingers. Kirk closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Spock -- his fingers had just the barest hint of nails, enough to drive a short, high-pitched noise out of Kirk's throat when they raked down the length of him slowly, his hips automatically pressing into Spock's hand.

"The first edition was published --"

"In _Vulcan_," Kirk gasped, "If you're going to make me lose my fucking mind over the fucking _publishing history_ of a _math poem_, it better be in fucking _Vulcan_." 

Spock gently raised an eyebrow and Kirk laughed; sex without laughter wasn't worth having, and Kirk pulled him closer by the waist, grinning as he pressed kisses to Spock's shoulder and was brought to his release.

*

Spock had noted in their years together that Kirk needed either a very defined boundary of personal space, or the complete obliteration of same. He woke to the latter -- Kirk's arms wrapping around his ribs, a thigh inserting itself between his own two, Kirk's face pressed against his collarbone. Spock returned the motions and pulled Kirk as close as he could, letting his mouth rest against Kirk's hair. "Hello," he said.

"Hey," came the muffled response. He felt Kirk's face shift so that his forehead came to rest against his collarbone and his nose and mouth were freed for breathing and talking. "Tell me about your apartment in the city. I can't picture it."

"It is comparatively bare," Spock said. "The decorative elements I most preferred are in this room."

"Like me," Kirk laughed.

"You are functional as well." He allowed himself a smile into Kirk's hair.

"I still can't picture it. Come on, details. I'm gonna be there with you for six months. Brace me for what's there."

"There is very little to be braced for -- there is very little at all. The walls are white, the floors are bare, the synthesizers should still be functional." Spock pursed his lips and recalled details of the living space he had not set foot in during the past five years. "A couch of some indeterminate color, possibly charcoal or another shade of grey. A study. A guest bedroom. The master bedroom, which has what is deemed a desirable view of the city."

"Tell me more."

Spock allowed his fingers to drift down Kirk's spine, lightly traveling from bump to bump. "I will be glad to see you there. Your presence brings a warmth that is sorely needed to make it habitable for a significant period of time."

"You're a born diplomat," Kirk said, and he pressed a kiss against Spock's chest.

(Spock did not bring up what they already knew: there would be no visits to Iowa during their leave, as Sam Kirk lived on an extrasolar planet with his family and Winona Kirk was chief engineer on the _Intrepid_ for another three years in the Delta quadrant.)

*

"What are Dr. McCoy's plans?" Spock asked.

"Uh, Georgia. He and Joanna are --"

"I am aware of his immediate plans, but are you aware of his abstract, long-term goals?"

They had fallen asleep and woken up again, Kirk still curled against Spock, this time his back to Spock's front. However, at this new line of questioning, Kirk disentangled himself and turned to face Spock. He curled an arm under his pillow and raised his eyebrows at Spock. 

"What do you mean?"

"He has already submit his request form for his next Starfleet assignment -- he would like another tour on the Enterprise with us."

"Yeah, I know," Kirk said. "What's your question?"

"The doctor would not sit down with me when I interviewed senior staff regarding their intentions -- there was always an emergency that my knowledge of medicine, while admittedly limited, suggests was a hoax. Therefore, I wonder if he sat down with you at some point and discussed his career trajectory."

Kirk burst out laughing and did not stop for a significant amount of time (close to one minute and thirty seconds). He flipped onto his back and gasped for air, then looked at Spock's face again. An eyebrow arched inquisitively and Kirk laughed even more.

"That is not an answer to my query."

"Yeah, it is," Kirk said.

"Then perhaps you would do me the honor of parsing your answer into a language I may understand."

"Aww, don't get snippy." Kirk still grinned broadly and turned on his side again to put an arm around Spock. "Bones is never going to leave us."

They were silent until Spock asked, "Is that all?"

"Yeah. What more did you want?"

"That answer is not sufficiently clear for my standards," Spock said. "As Captain and First Officer, we must consider the formation of some sort of training program for the next CMO, perhaps an ap--"

"Spock. He's never going to leave us."

"You ignore the possibility that he may be killed in the line of duty."

"That wasn't your question -- you asked about his long-term plans, which, yeah, _ultimately_ involve dying on the porch swing of some big house in Georgia with a mint julep or whiskey in one hand, fuck only knows what in the other, and a tiny contented smile on his face. Career wise, though: he's never going to leave us."

"And you have discussed this with him?"

Spock glanced at Kirk's hand that traveled to the side of his face, nails raking gently through the hair that had been pressed into sheets and pillows all day.

"Aren't there things about me you know without needing to ask?" Kirk asked. "This is one of those. He's never going to leave us."

"_You_ are not bonded to him," Spock said suddenly. "There is a reason _I_ know these things about you."

Kirk grinned and said, "I can't lie to you -- jealous Spock is kind of a turn on."

"Jim," Spock pressed. Yet he had no words to follow -- they were all illogical. Even the logical part of him stated, quite clearly, _This is still Jim. _

"He's never going to leave us." Kirk leaned in and kissed him, but Spock refused to part his lips. Kirk pulled away and gave him a half-smile (except that was inaccurate, as the brilliance registered at only 30% on the scale of Kirk's grins).

Jealousy was not illogical, Spock thought. It was logical to show concern at possible outside threats -- or was that a jealous person attempting to justify insecurities and the irrational behavior they provoked? 

The doctor was not, had never been a _threat_. It was jealousy, and it was illogical.

Spock leaned in and kissed Kirk's forehead, then his nose, then his mouth. His mouth hovered above Kirk's, not making contact but not pulling away until Kirk leaned in and kissed him with deliberate, agonizing slowness. Their mouths opened to each other and Spock captured Kirk's bottom lip between his own, drawing it out gently and kissing him full on again.

"This will make for an interesting initial senior staff meeting on our next tour," Spock said, their faces still extremely close and occasionally brushing against each other. "For once, the doctor and I have similar objectives."

"It's all about me, always," Kirk said. "For fuck's sake, my _face_ hurts from laughing so much. And we've only been here like, half the day."

Spock rolled on top of him, mentally signaling that he would do Kirk the gracious favor of relieving his cheeks' exertion via direct stimulation to other areas of his body, but Kirk interrupted their kiss to laugh even harder.

*

"So Bones already said we can visit his place in Georgia after July," Kirk said. "Then we can do some touristy crap. Like I've never been to the ruins on the East Coast."

"Nor have I."

"We can take our sweet fucking time looking around…"

"You will be bored within three weeks."

"Yeah, probably," Kirk laughed. "I guess I can write. Bulk up the 'published academic works' part of my credentials a little, in case _savior of the Federation_ didn't take up enough space. Were you thinking of teaching at Starfleet for the summer term?"

"I did not wish to accept the offer until we had made our plans," Spock said, then added, "Though I did not think you would wait until the final day of our tour to make them."

"I was _busy_."

"Busy procrastinating."

"Which is still _busy_."

Kirk was lying on his stomach, half on top of Spock, and trying to get his hair to stay in some style besides 'perfectly straight across his forehead'. "You need a haircut, buddy. These sideburns aren't regulation, and what about this thing on the back of your neck," Kirk said as his fingers curled around the area. "Lucky you don't get stubble or I'd have your stripes for that." 

Something in Kirk's stomach leapt excitedly when Spock broke their eye contact and flashed something like a grin -- it was so fucking _human_ he could have rolled on the floor and died. 

"Next tour, I'm going to be a total hard ass. Just you wait," he added.

"That would require you to leave your bed earlier," Spock replied, looking into Kirk's face again. "You cannot wake up five minutes before shift, shower, inspect every room, and be on time for your shift."

"That's what you're for," Kirk said. "I'll delegate all that fun stuff to you." Kirk let his chin rest on Spock's chest when Spock raised an eyebrow at him. "I wonder where our next tour's going to be."

"According to my father," and Kirk willed himself to actually listen, but it was difficult because Spock's hand had traveled to his hair and for fuck's sake, he was practically _petting_ him. Literally. On the head. Like a cat or a dog. Unconsciously so, which was why he didn't just throw the hand off and make claims about how dammit, Spock, he was a starship captain, not a kitten.

"Starfleet is reducing the number of deep space missions; there are too many disruptions and skirmishes among Federation planets to seek out additional members at this time. I believe the idiom is 'putting one's own house in order'."

"Makes sense," Kirk murmured, the petting suddenly not so objectionable. "I don't mind either way."

"Dr. McCoy would be gratified if he could see his daughter more often if we were closer to Earth more often."

"No, Bones is weird like that," Kirk said. "Either he sees her all the time or not for years; he thinks it's easier on her instead of a visit once every three months or something."

They were quiet for a few moments and Kirk said, "So I guess those are our plans."

"I will teach, you will write, and we will visit the doctor between summer and autumn terms. Then we will travel up the East Coast, and return to San Francisco for the duration." Spock looked deep in thought for a moment and added, "On my first tour with Admiral Pike, the last two months of leave were preoccupied with choosing crew, making demands, and preparing for the next tour. It may be closer to three for you, as you have never been one for making things simple."

"We can handle that," Kirk said. "We'll work during the day, enjoy San Francisco at night, and it'll be _awesome_."

Spock agreed wordlessly and they stayed there for a while, Spock tracing the curve of Kirk's ear with his fingertips and Kirk with his other ear pressed to Spock's chest, just above his quickly thrumming heart. The sound used to terrify and agitate him, especially during sex, because hearts didn't _go_ that fast and what if he just fucking _died_ right there -- but now his own felt lethargic in comparison, and he enjoyed it. 

"Are you falling asleep?" Spock asked quietly.

"I was," Kirk mumbled.

"It is 1500 hours."

"But it's so warm here."

"Then sleep." 

*

Kirk woke up, his face still on Spock's chest. He had drooled a little and tried to wipe it off his face and Spock's body surreptitiously. Once he had, he rolled onto his back and began to stretch.

"Are we ready?" Spock asked. Kirk looked over and wondered if he had slept. He had to have slept; watching sleeping people was way more boring than books had led people to believe.

"Yeah. Let's go."


End file.
